


Secrets In The Dark

by rude_ravenclaw



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, NSFW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rude_ravenclaw/pseuds/rude_ravenclaw
Summary: Beginning as children, you and Bruce had always been close. The two of you seal this friendship by keeping it a strong kept "secret" between you, Bruce, and the Dark.





	1. Glowing Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explicit scenes are in the third chapter.

You bounded up the steps of Wayne Manor, the blue dress your parents had forced you into flouncing around you. Today you got to visit your best friend, Bruce. You couldn’t be happier. Your little black patent shoes clicked on the stone steps. You reached up to the big, brass knocker. The door opened before you could grab hold of it. 

Alfred stood before you, prim and proper as usually but with an extremely warm and friendly smile. “Why, you’re rather early now, aren’t you, little one?” Alfred said in that funny accent of his. 

You giggled and bounced from foot to foot, excited to see Bruce. “I was just so excited to come here,” you respond excitedly. The sound of your father’s car on gravel faded away behind you. You peered around Alfred into the big empty entrance hall. A frown began to crease your face when you didn’t see him coming down the hall.

“Don’t look so glum, (Y/N),” Alfred said coolly, “he’s in the sitting room waiting for you.” You beamed up at the stoic but kindly butler before racing past him into the polished halls of Wayne Manor. You knew the big house as well as your own. Maybe even better. 

You rounded the corner with a bust of an old, dead Wayne and waltzed into the ornate sitting room. As you scanned the room, however, Bruce was no where to be seen. The corners of your mouth began to turn down again but then you heard a soft shuffle from the opposite side of the room. You grinned slyly and got down onto all fours, crawling towards the sofa where the noise came from. 

Knees itching from rug burn, you climbed up onto the couch. You placed one hand on the back of the couch to haul yourself but another hand grabbed it immediately, pulling you up and over the back of the couch. “Gotcha!” Bruce shouted as he pinned you to the floor. 

You let out a growl as you pushed against the dark-haired boy with your knees. He fell onto his butt with a grunt. You took this opportunity to lunge at him, taking your turn to pin him to the ground. Sitting with your knees on his chest, you hold his arms down. “Now I gotcha,” you say smugly. 

Bruce wrinkles his nose up at you and tries to push you off. “Get off me, I can’t breathe!”

You slide off of him and sit up against the back of the sofa. “Don’t yell at me because I beat you fair and square.” 

“Whatever, you got lucky” Bruce said, straightening the wrinkles out of his shirt. 

“Did not,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“Did to!”

“Are you to fighting behind the couch, again?” a woman’s voice piped up. You both froze, peeking over the couch with eyes like a deer’s in headlights. Martha Wayne stood at the entrance of the sitting room, hands on her hips and a soft grin on her pretty features. 

“No mother, we weren’t fighting,” Bruce piped up. Last time you and Bruce had wrestled, you accidentally tore the sleeve of one of his silk shirts. 

“You better not be. (Y/N), dear, are you spending the night?” Martha asked, focusing her eyes on you. 

You swallowed hard, always afraid to ask if it was okay that you spend the night at Wayne Manor. You’re parents didn’t mind, in fact they expected it to happen because you and Bruce were so close. “Um, may I, Mrs. Wayne?” you asked warily. 

The smile that spread across Martha’s face lit up the room, “Of course, dear. You are always welcome to stay here.”

A soft and triumphant ‘yes’ emitted from Bruce and he elbowed you gently. You beamed at each other and hummed with childhood energy. 

A night at the Wayne’s house was always the highlight of your week. You and Bruce would seem to do everything imaginable. Before dinner, you two would play chess, hide-and-seek in the garden, race through the halls, slide down the stairs on rugs, try to sneak into Mr. Wayne’s study, play in the garden some more, track mud into the halls, enraging Alfred. Dinner was spent kicking each other under the table and making faces at each other under the loving gazes of Thomas and Martha Wayne. 

After dinner came the fun part, building a fort in the sitting room. Alfred helped gather blankets and pillows from every corner of the manor to build a grand fortress of warmth and comfort. He even helped place a television in the fort so that you and Bruce could stay up late watching movies you weren’t supposed to. 

Alfred left you two with scary movies and enough snacks to feed an army. As squeals of terror filled the sitting room, a storm brewed outside of the manor’s stone walls. A loud clap of thunder rattled the windows of the sitting room and you jumped. “Getting… SCARED?” Bruce shouted as he jumped onto your back. 

You shrieked and hit Bruce hard in the arm. “Don’t do that!”

Bruce laughed and rubbed his arm where you hit him. “Oh come on, don’t be such a scaredy cat!”  

Before you could retaliate, the television fizzled out along with the lamp that was outside of the fort. You and Bruce were plunged into darkness and a shriek escaped your lips. Bruce quickly wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you heard him scramble to turn on a flashlight. He finally flipped the switch, temporarily blinding the pair of you. 

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). We’ve got the flashlight,” Bruce said calmly. You felt yourself stop shaking and Bruce moved to sit cross-legged in front of you. “I’m sure Alfred will fix the lights. Let’s a play a game.”

You nod intently. Bruce’s games could always distract you and calm you down. “What’s the game?”

Bruce props the flashlight up on a pillow so it points towards the roof of the blanket fort, illuminating the cozy space. “I tell a secret, and then you tell one in return. These secrets will be between you, me, and the dark, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond. You weren’t quite sure what kind of secrets you kept from Bruce. You two were best friends and told each other everything.

“I’ll go first. Hmm, remember my mother’s blue vase with the pink flowers on it?”

“Yeah! What happened to it? It was so pretty.”

“I broke it,” Bruce said quickly, “your turn!”

You giggled at this and rattled your brain for a secret to tell. “I was the one who took your sling-shot, not Alfred.”

“What?! I thought Alfred took it after I broke the vase with it! Why’d you take it?” Bruce questioned, his ears red. 

“Nope. It’s your turn to tell a secret” you say with a smirk. 

Bruce smirks back at you before saying, “I have a good one.” Bruce then whispers something that you can’t hear. You lean in closely. 

“What’d you say?”

Bruce grabbed your shoulders and whispered in your ear, “You’re my best friend, (Y/N).”

You looked puzzled at him, you knew this. “That’s not a secret, Bruce. I know I’m your best friend. You’re mine too.”

“I know you know, but now so does the dark. How fun is a secret if you don’t tell someone? The dark is good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, I’ll make sure the secrets stay between the three of us.” You hold out your pinky and Bruce wraps his own little finger around it. You smile broadly at each other. 

The lamp and the television flickers to life and you hear footsteps outside of the fort. “What are you two doing just sitting in the dark?” Alfred’s low voice rang out. 

You and Bruce looked at each other, giggling in the warm light of your friendship.  

 


	2. A Friend In Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Bruce's parents, you are the friend he needs in a dark, dark time.

The bright light of your bedside lamp greeted you as you were rudely awoken. “(Y/N), baby, (Y/N) you need to wake up,” your father said gently as he shook you awake. 

You groaned and closed your eyes, “Why? It’s still dark out.”

“Bruce needs you.”

Your eyes snapped open and you leapt out of bed with unnatural energy. “What happened? Where is he?” you questioned, concern cracking your voice. 

“Bruce and Alfred are at the front door,” your father replied somberly. 

You raced to the front door, your mind racing with reasons for this midnight visit. What happened? Who was hurt? You slip on the hem of your pajama pants and trip into the entryway. Alfred is standing in the open door, a silhouette against the night sky. A smaller shadow is standing behind him, unmoving. “(Y/N)…” Alfred says, his voice heavy. 

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” you squeak. 

“It’s Master and Madam Wayne, young miss. They’re dead” Alfred replies, his voice now shaking. 

You walk towards Alfred and Bruce, seeming to move in slow motion. You couldn’t have heard him right. Thomas and Martha couldn’t be dead. Your heart seemed to stop beating as you stopped in front of Bruce. He never looked up from staring at the concrete porch as you approached him. His face wore no expression. His body stood rigid. 

Just a week ago, you had had dinner at Wayne Manor, joking with Mr. Wayne and being coddled by Mrs. Wayne as your best friend grinned with happiness. They were alive. You had just seen them. They can’t be dead but here was Bruce, a changed Bruce. 

You quickly wrapped your arms around Bruce, hugging him tightly. Bruce never returned the embrace. It felt like hugging a statue. You slowly released him, settling back on your heels and feeling the cold concrete beneath your bare feet. No tears fell. You were numb. As you searched Bruce’s face for any sign of emotion, Alfred made arrangements with your parents for you to stay at Wayne Manor for a few days to help Bruce cope. 

You followed Bruce and looked down at the concrete, staring at the space between you two. Why is he not reacting? How is he not crying? How am I not crying? Your mind raced and your heart ached. You were numb the entire time your parents said goodbye, the entire trip to Wayne Manor, and the next few days. 

It has been two days since the Wayne’s funeral. Bruce hadn’t said a single word to you the entire time you had been with them. Some nights you could hear him crying as you passed his room. It reassured you that he felt something. You just wish he’d let you help. Wandering around the big, silent Manor wasn’t helping either of you. Why wouldn’t he talk to you? The death of Thomas and Martha was extremely hard on you too. Didn’t he understand? 

You were wandering past the library when Alfred called to you from the end of the hall. “Supper is ready, Miss (Y/N).”

“Coming, Alfred,” you monotonously reply. You glance out the large windows as you head towards the dining hall. The sun was sinking, casting strokes of pink and orange across the navy blue sky. How dare the sky look so happy? The bright colors left a sour taste in your mouth. Had the sky no decency to let you mourn?

You reached the dining hall and was greeted by a familiar sight, an empty seat. Alfred stood at the end of the table, dutifully waiting for you to be seated. “Where is he?” you say through gritted teeth. This is the fourth time that Bruce had skipped dinner. A fire grew in your belly and you clenched your fists. 

“Master Bruce informed me that he wished to be left alone,” Alfred mumbled, sighing deeply. 

“Alfred, where is he?”

Alfred wrung his hands and shuffled his weight between his feet, obviously considering whether he should just tell you or allow you to go looking for him. “He’s in his father’s study.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, you raced out of the dining hall and towards the study. You were furious. He could be sullen and silent all he wanted, but skipping meals crossed the line. You weren’t about to let your best friend starve himself. You hadn’t noticed that the sun had completely set, a dark shadow left looming over the world. 

Catching your breath, you pushed open the door to Thomas’ study. The light from the hall sent a shaft of light across the room, illuminating Bruce. He was sitting on one of the leather couches, encompassed in darkness. His face was as stony as ever. You stepped into the study, closing the door behind you and cutting off the light. 

You carefully made your way to the couch and sat next to Bruce, your fingertips brushing his. His fingers tensed as they touched and you pretended not to notice, your heart seizing. He was feeling something, whatever it was. 

You two sat in the dark, silence pressing in. So is this what he does when he doesn’t eat? He just sits in the dark? No crying or screaming or kicking? 

You try not to think about Bruce as you attempt to calm yourself down. Your mind takes a dark turn, though. You think about Martha and Thomas, cold and silent in the ground. They really are gone. It had hit you at the funeral that they really were dead. You still hadn’t cried, however, but you felt anger. You wanted to know how Bruce felt. Sometimes he would cry but why? Was it angry? Was he sad? You were sad. You were very sad. You cried. You began to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce said, his voice gravelly and emotionless. Your sad crying turned into furious tears. 

“What’s wrong? What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’? Do you feel nothing, Bruce?! Your parents are DEAD! That is what’s wrong!” you shout at him, shaking with fury. Hot tears stain your cheeks and your breath is shaky. Bruce’s hand curls into a fist next to your hand. You immediately regret what you said. You shouldn’t have yelled at him. “Bruce… I’m so sorry,” you whisper into the dark. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bruce says in a small voice.

A secret? Was now the time for secrets? “Of course. Between you, me, and the dark,” you reply, relaying the familiar mantra.

“I am sad. And angry and confused and numb. I feel everything.”

You sigh to yourself, thankful that he is finally opening up to you. 

“I also feel gratitude. Gratitude that you’ve been here. I know I’ve been distant but I appreciate you being here. You mean so much to me.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart beat actually quickens instead of seizing up like it had been. “You’re my best friend, Bruce. Thomas and Martha were like parents to me, too. I couldn’t let you be by yourself.”

Silence followed your words but you felt Bruce’s hand unfold, his fingers laying over yours. His touch was hot against your skin. You could hear him softly crying, his breathing coming short and quick. You turned your head to look in the direction of Bruce. “Bruce…” you whisper. He responds with a soft hum. “I have a secret too.”

You could feel that Bruce turned to face you and you lifted a trembling hand to his face. Your palm rested against his wet cheek. Before you could completely think it through, you lean in to press your lips against Bruce’s. Bruce reaches you first, catching on to your intentions. His lips are salty from his tears but it causes butterflies in your stomach, knowing that he’s feeling. Neither of you move, not really knowing what to do. The tingling you feel in your skin outshines the awkward kiss. 

You both pull away and you can feel Bruce’s breath against your face. You wish you could see your best friend, see him trusting you. Slowly, your wrap your arms around Bruce, holding him close. His head rests against your shoulder as you trail your fingers through his dark hair. You wondered if Martha comforted him this way. “You mean so much to me, Bruce,” you whisper gently. Bruce relaxes in your arms, allowing sadness to consume him in the caring embrace of his best friend. 

 


	3. Steamy Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During one of Wayne Manor's infamous holiday parties, things get steamy between Gotham's most eligible bachelor and his childhood friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit part of the story.

Holiday music flitted through the air, mingling with the sounds of expensive stilettos and the drawling voices of business men. The halls and ballroom of Wayne Manor were overflowing with Gotham’s elite. Young women in silk dresses clung to the arms of old politicians in satin suits. Young men in rented tuxes followed the politicians like puppies, hoping to make the connections needed to climb to the top. 

One young man, however, was dressed in a suit that even all of the jewels hung from the mayor’s wife’s neck couldn’t afford. His dark hair was slicked back. Sharp features caused shadows to dance across his handsome face. One hand was shoved deep into his pocket, the other twirled a glass of champagne between his long fingers. 

You watched him intently from your corner of the ballroom. His jaw clenched as rich man after politician walked up to him, offering ridiculous amounts of money and favors to have a piece of his company. Bruce Wayne was not one to budge so easily when it came to shares in his father’s company. Lately, he wouldn’t budge on anything. 

For every plan you tried to make with your best friend, he had an excuse already made. 

Dinner, Thursday night?  _ Can’t. Dinner with the Mayor. _ Let’s binge watch that new crime show on Friday. _ (Y/N), you know I have meetings all day on Friday. _

For the past few years, Bruce and you had grown increasingly distant. You didn’t want your friendship to be like this. You two were getting older. High school graduation had come and gone. Bruce had begun to take control of Wayne Enterprises and you were about to head to college to study law. You left to study in Metropolis in tomorrow but you still hadn’t told Bruce. 

All night, Bruce seemed to be avoiding you. As you moved across the ballroom, he moved further away. It was infuriating but you had to talk to him. Fighting off budding young lawyers, you made your way to the flight of stairs that the young billionaire had disappeared onto. The Manor had always been like your home and Bruce had always been so predictable when he got into one of his moods. 

Although you were alone, you slunk down the hall. Your heels clicked against the marble floors and your powder blue dress fluttered around your ankles. At the end of the dimly lit hall stood an open glass door leading onto a balcony. You stopped at the entrance to the balcony and watched the dark figure you knew so well. 

His strong hand gripped the stone banister tightly, knuckles turning white in the moonlight. He rolled his shoulders angrily, muscles rippling beneath his suit. You felt your stomach tighten. He wasn’t a scrawny thirteen year-old anymore. All of that late night working out Alfred mentioned seemed to be working. 

You were brought back to reality, however, when you heard a splash from the direction of the boy… no, man, who made your knees go weak. Bruce had emptied his champagne glass over the side of the balcony. Although it was dark, you could clearly see the grimace scarring his face. You laughed a bit, causing a small jerk of the head from Bruce. 

You walked up to stand beside him, placing your hand on the banister near his. A faint scent of musk and expensive cologne wafted off of Bruce, warming your insides. Shivers traveled down your spine. Was it just the wind or the closeness of your handsome friend Bruce Wayne?

“Bruce,” you say through gritted teeth. Boy, it was cold. “We need to talk.”

“We’ll talk inside. You’re cold,” Bruce says bluntly. He grips you by the elbow and whisks you inside. A quick turn to the right and Bruce sits you down on the chaise at the end of his bed. Bruce slips off his suit jacket in one fluid motion and tosses it onto a chair. He paces in front of you, hands deep in his pockets. “Alright, talk.”

“You’ve changed, Bruce, and…” you begin but Bruce cuts you off, stopping in front of you.

“We’ve both changed, (Y/N). You’re a woman now.”

You shook your head and stood up. “Well, Mr. Wayne, you may not know how to treat your friends but at least you know how puberty works.” You decided that you’d tell Alfred that you were leaving and let him tell Bruce. As you attempt to walk past him, he grabs you roughly by the arm. 

“(Y/N),” he says in almost a whisper. Once again, shivers travel down your spine. It’s an exciting shiver. An excitement that you’ve only felt on dark, lonely nights. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Bruce, c’mon, we really need to talk. You know I’m not just another girl you can woo.” His grip softened but he never let go. His thumb drew small circles on your arm.

“What do we need to talk about? These feelings we try to repress?”

Your heart seemed to leap into your throat. How long had Bruce felt this way? Of course you had always had feelings for Bruce but you brushed them aside for the sake of your friendship. That’s what you had to do now. “I’m guessing that’s the champagne talking.”

“You know I’m right (Y/N). Let’s not repress those feelings anymore,” his minty breath was hot against your ear. A heat begins to spread through your body, beginning between your legs. His soft lips pressed against your jawline gently. 

“Bruce…” you breathe. His hands find a home at your hips, gripping you firmly and pulling you into him. You could feel his taught muscles move between you. He only replied in a soft groan as his lips explored the soft skin of your neck. Slowly, you unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, exposing his broad chest.

His lips finally crashed into yours when you gently scraped your nails down his bare chest. An intense passion fueled the kiss and you reciprocated. His usual confident facade faltered as he fumbled with the zipper of your dress. You smiled against his lips and pushed his shirt off of his shoulders. Bruce finally unzipped your dress, letting out a relieved sigh. You giggled into his mouth as your dress dropped to the floor, leaving you exposed. 

Sure, you and Bruce had kissed a few times in the dark before on emotional nights but never had you two gone this far. Bruce stared at your bare chest with a mixed emotion of curiosity and wonder. His rough hands wandered up your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His fingers teased your nipples, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts. He walked you backwards onto his bed. 

Tripping over the chaise, you two topple onto the large bed. The feather duvet cushions your fall and Bruce’s warm weight presses down on you. Your body feels like it is on fire with excitement and want. You entangle your fingers in Bruce’s thick, dark hair, crashing his lips into yours. He pushes your knees apart, grinding his clothed erection against your core. You hadn’t realized how wet Bruce had made you, but now you could feel it as your thin underwear became soaked. 

Bruce held your hips down firm, his strong fingers sure to leave perfect impressions on your skin. He hungrily attacked your neck and emitted a moan from you. Although he moved with a hunger, there was a loving gentleness to his actions. He was always just on the edge of leaving bruises, making sure you felt it but that only you would know it had happened. 

He unlatches himself from your neck, sitting up to throw off his shoes and trousers. You lay in front of your best friend, naked and exposed. He hovered above you in only his boxers. His toned body shone in the moonlight, the only light that dared to penetrate the dark. 

Bruce gently grabbed your right leg, lifting it up so your still heeled foot hovered above his shoulder. Gently, tortuously, he kissed down the inside of your leg. In a fluid motion, he removed your shoe and it clattered to the hardwood floor. He lowered your leg, repeating the process on your left leg. 

Your lips trembled as the need for Bruce to be close to you grew. His fingers glided up your legs, past your thighs, and to the waistband of your underwear. A faint smile caressed his features as he bent down to plant a kiss just above the waistband. He pulled the fabric down and off of your smooth legs. Your gently trailed your fingers through his hair as he planted kisses on the inside of your thighs. His tongue dragged one swipe up your core, causing you to involuntarily buck your hips. 

His name escaped your lips in a whisper and you could feel his voice rumble against your core in satisfaction, “You’re gorgeous.” He dragged his tongue through your folds, relishing in the taste of his best friend. He sucked tenderly on your clit, a finger coming up to explore your entrance. You moaned and whimper under the control of Bruce. One of his strong arms held down your trembling hips as his tongue worked magic on you. You pressed your head back into the mattress as you felt your climax coming. One hand gripped his hair tightly while the other dug its nails into his shoulder. 

“Bruce… Bruce, I’m so close,” you whine into the darkness. At your words, he stops. He turns his dark, lust-filled eyes up to you. On strong arms, he crawls up to you, hovering his body over your trembling one. He lovingly kisses you, his tongue dragging across your bottom lip. Your tongues battle for dominance and you weren’t sure when he took his boxers off but you could feel his bare member pressing up against your hot, wet core. 

Bruce mumbled something against your lips before pushing himself into you. Tendrils of pleasure wrapped around your skin as Bruce filled you up. He stopped when he could go no further. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and his hands at either side of your head. He slowly began to move in and out of you, gradually picking up speed. You wrapped your hands over his shoulders and held him close to you as he repeatedly entered you… no, as he made love to you. 

The passion behind his thrusts held more than young lust, there was meaning behind them. You lost count of how many times his name escaped your swollen lips. Bruce moved his lips to your neck, sucking and nipping at the tender skin. Every now and then he would mumble words against your skin but you still couldn’t understand him. Your curiosity quickly fell away as you felt yourself reaching your climax again, stronger this time. You moved your hips in time with his thrusts. 

The fiery heat that started at your core had spread to every corner of your body. You finally bubbled over and gave way to your orgasm. You gripped Bruce’s shoulders tightly and let out his name in a long moan. At your release, Bruce’s thrusts became quicker and sloppy. Soon, Bruce was climaxing into you, filling you up. As he came down from his orgasm, he stroked your hair, still hovering over you.

He pulled out of you and rolled over to be beside you, pulling you into him. He kissed the top of your head and mumbled something into your hair. “Bruce, what have you been saying?” you question.

“I have a secret to tell you. A secret between you, me, and the dark” Bruce replied in a hushed voice. You listened to his heart beat and felt his chest rise and fall with every breath. You waited patiently for him to go on. “As much as it hurts my big ego to say this, you’re right. I don’t know how to treat my friends. I don’t have any friends.” You became angered at this and Bruce could tell because he tightened his grip on you. “I don’t have friends. I only have people that I love and I’m learning how to treat them. I love you, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t believe what you heard. Bruce loved you. You loved him too. But you were leaving. You had to tell him. You opened your mouth to reply but you were interrupted by a soft snore from the man who loved you. It could wait until the morning. 

The morning was a blur. You awoke before Bruce and didn’t want to disturb his peaceful slumber. His messy hair shone in the morning sun and his pouty lips emitted soft snores. You had to go home so you could grab your things and leave for Metropolis. 

There wasn’t enough time. As much as you wanted to tell Bruce in person, you couldn’t so you settled for a note. Ink on paper couldn’t express the love you felt for Bruce, nor the heartbreak of leaving him without a real goodbye. Your lives were going in two very different directions. Although it pained you, you still felt whole. You and Bruce had shared one last secret last night. A beautiful secret that only you, Bruce, and the dark would ever know about. 

 


	4. One Last Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After many years away from Gotham, you find yourself returning with a friend you had not seen, but never forgot.

A party. You had grown to hate parties. Being one of the top lawyers in Metropolis, you were invited to hundreds of elite parties. It looked good, showed you mingled with the community. They were so boring, though. A rich man threw a large party, everyone who was anybody was invited, and you were stuck on some old lawyer’s arm the entire night. You weren’t as young as you once were, either. You had been in Metropolis for a little over 20 years now. Everything was the same, everything was routine. 

Then an invitation showed up. An invitation to a party thrown by Lex Luthor. Now this was exciting. A young man throwing a lavish party. Attendees from Gotham would be there. Would Bruce be there? Every now and again you caught yourself thinking about him. Its hard not to. You hadn’t spoken to your best friend since the night before you left Gotham. The best friend who professed his love to you, physically and verbally. You left him just like that. With nothing but a one night stand and a note. He probably wouldn’t be there. Why would he go? Even if he went, he wouldn’t want to see you. The girl who broke his heart. Who are you kidding? His profession could have very well been the champagne talking all those years ago. 

You pushed him out of your mind as you made plans to attend the party. You decided to go alone this time. 

On the evening of the party, you showed up in a plum colored, floor-length dress with an open back and halter straps. You may have been in your forties but, damn, you still looked good. For the first hour you wandered around, sipping on your glass of champagne and greeting colleagues. The young Luthor gave a vibrant speech but otherwise, nothing seemed to be happening. 

You slipped out into the building’s garden after dropping your empty glass off to one of the many servers roaming around. Your heels clicked against the stone pathway, water splashed into the marble fountain, and the buzz of chatter wafted through the open doors, otherwise not another sound could be heard. You ventured deeper into the garden until you couldn’t hear the party any longer. 

An ornate stone bench was perched in the center of a lawn of roses. Fairy lights dangled from the trees’ strong limbs. You took a seat on the bench, closing your eyes and focusing on the sweet smell of the roses. 

A night breeze blew through the garden, causing a chill to run down your spine. You hugged yourself and stroked your arms, hoping to warm up the blood flow. Just as you were thinking of heading back so you could leave, a heavy suit jacket was draped over your shoulders. You jumped in fright a little and were about to turn to see who it was, the scent of a very particular, expensive cologne and a very particular musk hit your nostrils. 

Your muscles softened and a small smile spread across your face. “Thank you, Bruce,” you said quietly. 

He took the seat next to you and grunted in return, which you took as a ‘You’re welcome.’ You looked over at him. He was different. Of course, he looked older, there was gray in his hair and frown lines on his face. His demeanor, however, made him look different. Sure he had grown colder after the passing of his parents but a grunt for a reply? It wasn’t like him. Who were you to say anything? You had changed too. 

“Its been a long time,” you say, trying to ignite some sort of conversation. You wrap his jacket tighter around yourself. “I saw in the papers that Wayne Enterprises is continuing to expand into Metropolis.”

“That is why I’m here,” he finally said. His voice was deeper, gruffer, pained. 

You both sat in silence. The hulking mass that was Bruce Wayne sat stoically beside you, only ever moving with the rise and fall of his breathing chest. You stole another glance at your old friend. The moon made his face look as though it was made of precious silver. The streaks of gray in his dark hair shone brightly. Oh how you have missed him.

“So, I suppose you’re doing well,” Bruce said nonchalantly.

“Yeah…” you whispered in response. “Bruce, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he quickly asked.

“The last time we saw each other.”

“The last time we saw each other was pretty good if I remember correctly,” he said, a flash of a smirk on his face.

“Okay, okay. The last time I saw you. I should’ve woken you up to say goodbye, to say… something.” You began to choke up, thinking about all of the things you should’ve said instead of leaving a measly note. 

Gently, Bruce put one of his large hands over your knee, his thumb drawing small circles on the fabric of your dress. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, looking to the sky. 

You smiled shyly, a single tear rolling down your cheek, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Alfred never stops asking about you,” Bruce said with a chuckle. You responded with a soft laugh. “I think he was more upset about you leaving without saying goodbye than I was.”

Your smile faded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Bruce. I was just… scared. I had feelings about my best friend that I didn’t know how to comprehend.”

“I know, (Y/N),” your name. It sounded so sweet to hear him say your name again. “It took awhile but I realized that. I was scared too. The champagne just helped me to start doing the talking.”

You looked up at Bruce, another smile spreading across your face. He was staring right at you. His grip on your knee tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away again. A soft smile grazed his lips and his normally dark eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Your heart began to beat just a little faster. 

“Can I tell you something?” Bruce asked. 

“Of course.”

“It has to be a secret,” he said in almost a whisper. You had to lean in slightly to hear him. Your smile broadened and your heart began to beat even faster. It was just like when you two were children in Wayne Manor. 

“Between you.”

“Me.”

“And the dark,” you whispered. You two were now inches apart. You felt like a young girl about to kiss her long time crush. Bruce smiled widely at you, something you had dearly missed. He reached deep into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, pressing it into the palm of your hand. 

You unfolded it, being delicate as the fold was beginning to tear from constant use. The ink was fading and smudged in several places. Smudged by droplets of water… by tears. You could feel your own tears threatening to smudge the note you had left for Bruce the last time you had seen him. 

The words ‘ _ I love you _ ’ were underlined in fresher ink. “I meant everything, Bruce. Everything we did that night, everything I wrote, I meant it all,” you whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Now, this is something, I don’t want to be a secret,” Bruce said, cupping your chin in one warm hand and tilting your face up to look at him. Looking deep into your eyes, the hand on your knee moving up to cradle the back of your neck, he said, “I still mean it.” 

Bruce pulled you into him, kissing you deeply, passionately. This, this you had missed most of all, the loving embrace of your best friend, your lover, of Bruce. His lips tasted of mint and the feel of his soft lips sent your nerves on overdrive. It felt like an eternity before you two pulled apart. You wished eternity lasted forever. “I love you, Bruce,” you said breathlessly. 

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Bruce replied, dropping his hands and standing up from the bench with a groan. You smiled to yourself, letting out a soft laugh. He turned to you, his large frame blocking out the moon. “No more secrets. Care to dance with me, Miss (Y/L/N)?” He stretched his hand out to you.

You took it and he pulled you up to your feet. “This party is so boring, I was thinking of leaving.” You hooked your arm through Bruce’s as you two began to exit the garden.

“Well, Alfred will be very happy to see you.” He patted your arm with his hand and smirked mischievously at you. 

“You’re pretty confident that I’ll go all the way back to Gotham with you, Mr. Wayne.” You smirked back at him, loving every moment with your best friend.

“Its just for an innocent sleepover,” he replied, frowning playfully at you.

“Don’t you usually work nights?” Bruce stopped and looked at you, cocking an eyebrow at you. You began to giggle at your best friend as you left him standing in shock, walking towards the familiar Porsche in the parking lot. “Aren’t you coming, Bruce? We can’t keep Alfred waiting.” 

Bruce smiled at you and jogged the distance to the Porsche. The two of you drove to Gotham, leaving the darkness behind you and heading towards the bright light of your future. 

 


End file.
